The South Passage
by ElivagarVimur
Summary: A deeper look at the events before the Battle of Hoth. Poor Han and Leia, they just can't get along, can they?


When her eyes opened, the blinding white of the room pouring into them made her squint. Throwing up a hand, she attempted to block out the intense glare. Tinges of orange and pink began to stain its purity while shadow spots bled and grew. She gasped at a sudden chill that triggered a quake through her whole body. Looking down at her bare feet, she noticed a shadow that spilled directly onto her pale skin. Snapping her head up, she found Han staring at her intently, his hands on his hips. He wore a curious expression, the edgeless shadows softening his hardened features. She tried to break eye contact in the hopes that he might do the same, but he didn't budge. Then she caught his eyes begin to fall from hers and onto her body, only to dart right back up to meet hers again. He wouldn't stop. Furrowing her brow, she finally spoke.

"What?"

It echoed loudly through the room, though it was barely a whisper. Already feeling self conscious, she looked down only to find that she was completely exposed. How could something like getting dressed have possibly slipped her mind? She had been wearing clothes all day, hadn't she? At what point had she taken them off? And in front of Han, of all people? He moved to kneel in front of her where she sat, now trying cover as much of herself as she physically could. His hands engulfed hers and gently moved them to rest at her sides.

"It's okay."

With her jaw hung open in disbelief, she watched his hands graze her knees and begin their slow ascent up her thighs. His mouth blazed a warm, winding trail over her stomach. Rather than protest, her arms limply rose to slide her fingers into his hair as he ever so slightly increased the pressure of his touch.

"What are you doing?" she heaved.

Her thoughts spun into a whirlwind, her unsure words a complete contrast to her steady actions. Why was she allowing him touch her like this? Why was she touching him back?

"It's alright," Han reiterated.

As he continued, something beckoned her to turn her head. There, at the end of the room, were a handful of imperial officers watching them. She was sure they hadn't been there before.

"Someone is here…" she tugged at his hair to get his attention.

"Everything is fine."

"Han, they see us," this time, she made sure to turn his head. Searching as if there really was nothing there, he turned back to her.

"Sweetheart, it's alright." His voice was low and calm, and it rumbled through her, unhinging any sense of safety she previously felt. Panic overtook her, nearly breaking out into a scream.

"Han, look! They're right there! They can see us!"

She shook him, begging him to look again, frantically flailing her arm out to point at the imperials that clearly occupied the opposite corner of the room. She was becoming hysterical, tears breaking through, screaming his name over and over. He wouldn't look, he just kept kissing her. She felt herself growing numb to his touch.

There was a sting of pain in her feet. When she looked down, the ground was ice. A distant voice was yelling at her to run. There was no explanation given, but she knew she had to get out. As she ran, she felt not the bite of the frozen wind, but the familiar brush of clothing of against her skin, realizing she was no longer bare. There was sky all around, and rays of light peeked through the haze. It was Hoth. She was on Hoth.

Where was Han? Hadn't he just been with her a second ago?

No. That wasn't real. She had been here this whole time. Memories of that day came flooding back. The harsh exchange of words, the growing worry for Luke, the added worry for Han, and the frozen metal clang to seal it tight inside her. But she wasn't behind the doors, she was outside. There was still a chance, maybe, if she could find them…

She trudged on through the deepening snow, the haze growing thicker, blocking out the rays of light. Her field of vision was shrinking, and her sense of direction becoming skewed. She called out, but her voice was snatched up and thrown into the howls of the wind. Once more, nothing but white filled her vision.

Leia had been drifting somewhere between the two planes of dream and consciousness, unsure if her current state was reality or not. The muffled roar of speeder engines finally jolted her awake, her body jerking as if she had just been tossed into her bed. There was no doubt now that she was still on Hoth. If it wasn't speeders, the slap of frigid air was certainly a reminder.

The remnants of strange memories still fresh in her mind played over and over, finally concluding that they had all just been part of a dream. She almost convinced herself that Luke and Han's disappearance had been part of the dream, and she desperately wanted to believe it, but she knew the truth. It bred waves of nausea within her. Deciding to face what ever the day would bring, she rose to ready herself for her shift.

Her insides were being violently twisted into knots by her anxiety. After overhearing talk that the speeders were in fact sent out in search of her friends, and confirming it with Rieekan, it was the only thing that occupied her mind. Appearing busy, she focused as much attention as she could manage, without turning around, on the communication station behind her. Every crackle and blip suspended her breath as she fought to decipher the words being said over the hum of the base.

Someone beside her was speaking loudly when another voice came in over the channel. For a second, she fantasized herself clamping their loud mouth shut, when she made out the words "…I found them."

Her heart broke into a sprint, as if just being released from the vice of her worry. Her legs nearly did the same, but she couldn't leave, not yet anyway. It took all the discipline she could muster to keep her rooted in the command center.

Rieekan had taken notice of the faraway look in the Princess' eyes since she had timidly inquired about the speeders earlier. When he received confirmation that the two men she had fretted over were arriving on base, he made his way over to speak with her.

He found her slumped over at a console in a corner tracing imaginary paths between switches. The glow from the lights cast shadows that revealed the weariness beneath her mask.

"Princess," he started, watching her immediately straighten up in her seat, guilt beginning to spread over her face. "I've just been informed that Skywalker and Solo have been delivered safely on base."

Her lips parted slightly, but before they could form anything, Rieekan broke her train of thought.

"I think it would be in your best interest if you took a little breather for a while," he said with a trace of a grin, tailed by a cragged wink.

He watched as her eyes lit up, the tension in her face fading. She stood from her seat and he rested a solid hand on her shoulder.

"Before you leave, I just want you to be aware that Skywalker suffered some injuries and is being sent in for further examination. It doesn't appear to be anything critical, and should heal up just fine, but we just want to be sure."

He didn't miss the troubled look creep back into her eyes as he spoke, but she offered a small smile despite that.

"Thank you, Carlist."

She held his gaze, trying to convey how deeply grateful she was to him. Offering his own smile, she turned to leave.

Leia moved through the base as nothing more than a blur, making a straight shot for the med center where she would be sure to find Han and Luke. Well, she would find Luke at least. Han was the type to forego any sort of, what he would deem as, _kriffin_' _unnecessary_ medical attention.

When she arrived, a droid directed her to a bacta tank where Luke was submersed. Just as she predicted, there was no beaming Han Solo in sight. While she was sure he was most likely fine, if his seemingly endless barrel of luck was anything to go by, her heart still sank at his absence. There was a need blossoming within her gut to see him alive and well, to have his swollen head tilted down at her, to have his hands all over her…

The sight of Luke made her pause. There was a flash of something sinister in the image. The overhead light created large shadows beneath his brow, a respirator hooked to his mouth, like a face out of her nightmares. The room was dark, save for the blue florescent glow of the tank and his ghostly white, illuminated form floating inside. The dancing webbed reflections of light gave life to the walls, like thousands of translucent creatures scattering about. As she stepped closer, two large cuts on his face came into focus. She winced in sympathy, almost swearing she felt the phantom pain herself.

Never had she reacted so intensely to someone who was injured before. It couldn't have had anything to do with any romantic notions, as there were none-from her end anyway. But she didn't deny the bond she felt with Luke, and seeing him in such a state frightened her. She stood for moments just watching him as he bobbed around slowly, serenity beginning to settle in around her.

More than a little late on cue, the door swished open and she recognized the familiar tempo of booted steps, followed by the quieter padded steps of a Wookiee. Turning her head, she saw Han. He slowed a bit, locking eyes with her as he moved past. If he was wearing that typical dopey looking grin when he entered, it was gone now.

"Admiring my work?"

She crossed her arms, keeping her lips pressed in a line, turning her head slightly to look at him sideways.

"I can see you were all broken up about me," he stated casually, leaning up against the wall behind her

Was she detecting a hint of jealousy, or did his ego need that much petting?

"Well, you didn't bother checking into the med center. I assumed you must be alright."

He crossed his own arms, mirroring her stance.

"Maybe that's where I was headed. You sure didn't waste any time getting yourself over here."

"I'll have you know that I _was_ concerned for the both of you," she snapped, immediately feeling the heat swarm her face at her admission, hoping he wouldn't notice the dim light. "And thank you for taking care of him," she tried a bit softer.

He nodded. " Uh huh, and is this Leia thanking me, or the Rebellion?"

She appeared as if she had completely frozen solid right there before his eyes. Backlit by the tank, her silhouette was dark and still. Her porcelain skin was painted with hues of blue, the same way night fell over the ice of the desolate landscape. He swore that if he even dare brush his lips against her beautiful face, they would stick solid. He held her dead stare.

"Weren't you leaving?" she hissed through her teeth.

There was a low warble from Chewbacca as he rolled his eyes.

[Why don't you take it outside.]

Han blinked, glancing up at the Wookiee and back at Leia.

"Great idea, Pal."

He pushed off the wall and strode out of the room, not before being greeted at the door by his _favorite_ loud mouthed, know-it-all droid and his shorter counterpart.

"Oh, Captain Solo, it's so good too-"

"Move it, Threepio!" he barked, pushing past forcefully, leaving the baffled droid in his wake.

"Well!"

Leia turned to the Wookiee, bewildered. Looking back at the door, it urged her to step through and chase after him.

No. She wasn't going down that path again. She wasn't allowing him that pleasure. He could leave right now for all she cared. If those were the last words they ever uttered to each other, that was fine by her. What Han Solo wants, Han Solo gets.

She paced the room, her hands clasped together. It took all but two minutes for her thoughts to reverse. Grumbling a swear to herself, she marched out the door.

More than amused by the play of events, Chewbacca woofed a quiet chuckle to himself.

As she stepped through the doorway, she looked to the left, then turned her body quickly to the right before her head followed, nearly receiving a mouthful of Han's jacket. She jumped at the unexpected contact.

"Looking for someone, Princess?"

There was that smug grin she loved to hate. Straightening out her vest, she assumed her defensive stance once again, knowing she had been caught. She attempted to smooth over her guilt by turning it around on him.

"Waiting for me, Captain?"

"I was. Waiting for you to come _bounding back into my arms_," he gestured in a mock dramatic fashion, crossing his hands over his heart, his eyes fluttering shut.

"Would you cut that out?" she pleaded, the volume of her voice rising.

"Sure. You won't have anything to worry about once I'm out of here."

She was done playing this little game of his. How someone could perform incredible acts of bravery and selflessness one minute, and then turn around be like…_this, _was beyond her. In a flash of raw emotion, she reached up and tore one of his hands away from his side and into her grip.

"I want you to stay," she spat out, her voice cracking.

The words stuck him as if he'd been clobbered upside the temple with the end of a blaster. He could see her eyes becoming glassy and red, even in the dimly lit corridor. Their breath crystallizing before them, like the unresolved heat of tension between the pair. Her grip burned his skin.

He couldn't look at her any longer, afraid he would cave in the same way he had just witnessed from her. No words came to him. All he could do was shake his head.

Although he didn't see her, he swore he could feel the intensity of her expression flare out, then immediately ice over. The cold air stung his hand when she released him. When he turned back, she was gone.


End file.
